Our layover in Tel Aviv is about seven hours, so we decide to enter into the city for a walk and some dinner before continuing on to Los Angeles. We find a great spot called the Social Club where we split several appetizers and enjoy a couple cocktails. Upon returning to Tel Aviv Ben Gurion Airport, we again get asked the usual questions including the purpose of our visit to Israel, if we have family living in Israel, what synagogue we belong to, if we speak Hebrew, and all the questions about our bags being in our possession since we packed them.
The quick fifteen-hour flight home involves a little more stretching than I had hoped. I sit on the aisle next to two very friendly Jewish grandparents. Before we even took off, I see pictures of all their grandchildren and learned what everyone was up to and where they were all living. The one trait many grandparents share that concerns me is their relatively small bladders, and this fear was realized as I get up over at least a dozen times to let them reach the bathroom. But alas, I am able to get some sleep on the plane and the fifteen hours don’t last as long as they could have.
I am now sad that the trip has come to an end, but I am also happy that I had this chance to spend time with my dad while exploring a new part of the world.
